To The Ends Of Middle Earth
by Jay of Lasgalen
Summary: Slightly AU - post ROTK. When a sudden tragedy strikes Minas Tirith, how do those left behind remember? Characters: Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas, Gimli. NEW!!! Alternative ending for those who didn't like the original!!! **NOW COMPLETE**
1. Chapter 1 - Sacrifice

Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction – I can't believe how nervous I am! The whole story is finished, apart from some final details and tweaking, but I'm only posting the first chapter for now. PLEASE let me know what you think!  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Sacrifice  
  
A giggling, golden-haired child of about three raced across the grass towards her mother. She was hotly pursued by an older boy who slowed his steps to allow his sister to win the race. She was unable to control her feet well at this speed and fell in a breathless heap at the feet of a short figure standing beside her mother. Gnarled hands with short, stubby fingers gently picked the girl up and set her on her feet. "Carefully, Lady Ithilia!"  
  
She wobbled again and grabbed at his beard for support. He growled at her in mock ferociousness and she laughed again. Her laughter was echoed by another.  
  
"Well, Gimli! It seems you have at last found a companion to match your stature!"  
  
All four tuned to look at the newcomer who crossed the lawn towards them. Ithilia gave a squeal and ran towards the tall figure, who swung her high in the air. Gimli snorted and called "Be careful, my friend. There is one who will soon challenge your beauty!"  
  
At this, Ithilia's mother, Arwen rose to her feet, turning her face away from the others to hide her smile. She greeted the new arrival with a smile that deepened to a warm embrace. "Legolas - it is wonderful to see you again! Why do you not come here more often?"  
  
The Elf returned her embrace, a little clumsily as he still had Ithilia perched on his hip, and added a kiss to her brow. "My Lady Arwen, you of all people should know that I prefer the company of the trees and forests to dead stone, even in your glorious city! I come as often as I ……" Here he broke off, looking down. The child was tugging at his tunic in a successful attempt to gain his attention. "Leg'as! Leg'as!"  
  
He looked at Arwen ruefully. Dropping his earlier formality, as she had not reacted, he continued "….. can bear. By the Valar, Arwen, did you have to teach both your brats that name? I thought I lived it down when you and your brothers outgrew it!" He glared over her shoulder at Gimli, who looked at if he was storing the name away for future use.  
  
Before Arwen could respond, he stepped away from her and glanced around. They were in the highest circle of Minas Tirith, on a smooth green lawn that lay before the tower where King Elessar dwelt. The state rooms, where all formal business and government were dealt with, lay on the far side of this tier of the city. That was known as the King's Tower, but all who knew him well knew that this smaller tower, surrounded by gardens, and overflowing with children (his own and their friends), animals, and just a handful of trusted servants, was the true heart of the city.  
  
"It is good to be back. It has been too long since I saw you and Aragorn. My work in Ithilien…."  
  
"Does not keep you THAT busy. Even Gimli is a more frequent visitor."  
  
"The Dwarf has nothing more important to occupy him than a few caves…."  
  
Arwen stopped listening and glanced at her children. Ithilia was just delighted to see her friends again, while Eldarion looked bemused at the banter. He had once tried to top one of Legolas' jibes about Gimli's height by pointing out that he was now two inches taller than the Dwarf, when they had both smoothly changed pace and berated his father about ill- mannered offspring. He had apologised, but later confided to his father that he found it hard to understand the pair. He clearly remembered his father's answer – "I have known them both for many years now, and they always bicker. But threaten one, and you will find yourself facing both." Aragorn had paused, then added "I don't understand them either."  
  
Now Arwen shivered as a cloud passed over the sun. Raising her head to the sky, she watched as dark clouds massed above the surrounding hills. One of the vicious storms that sometimes lashed the city was gathering.  
  
  
  
  
  
Later that afternoon Aragorn, Arwen, Legolas and Gimli exchanged news. Outside the sky darkened. At the far end of the room Eldarion had been watching from a window. He turned to Aragorn. "Father, can I go up to the tower to watch? I'll be careful. And I told Mihal I'd see him later."  
  
Aragorn studied the clouds. The storm was still distant. "Very well. But only five minutes. And be back from Mihal's before supper. Faramir and Éowyn will be joining us."  
  
After the boy had left, Legolas resumed his tale of Gimli's last visit to Ithilien. It seemed he had finally persuaded the Dwarf to try riding a pony of his own. It had not been a success. The beast's saddle had slipped, though Legolas swore he had tightened it, and Gimli had been dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Legolas, helpless with laughter, had not been able to help him to his feet for some time.  
  
"I know that fool Elf hadn't checked it properly! He had no idea what he was doing – he never uses the things himself anyway!" Gimli continued to mutter darkly about the shortcomings of both Elves and ponies. Then he brightened, describing the time he had given Legolas a tour of Aglarond and the Glittering Caves, and managed to get them both lost. The Elf was decidedly edgy before Gimli finally found the right passage after several wrong turns – especially when Gimli dropped the torch, plunging them into darkness for the latter part of their journey. The memory was still sweet.  
  
Outside, rain lashed against the windows. Lightning flared distantly. Servants moved silently about the room, lighting candles and torches against the night. Legolas was remote, only half listening. He had laughed with the others at Gimli's tale, but a memory of crushing pain and darkness hovered at the edges of his mind. He shook his head to clear the images, but could still feel a tension. Suddenly he turned his head, as if listening to something only he could hear.  
  
"Something is wrong. I think … Aragorn, where is Eldarion?"  
  
"He went to see a friend. He'll be here later."  
  
But now Arwen too was on her feet. Her perceptions were no longer as keen as Legolas' but Eldarion was her son. "I'll find him."  
  
She and Gimli went towards the guards' barracks where Mihal lived with his father. At her instructions servants spread out to search the grounds. Legolas, following some unheard prompting, moved to the stairs that wound upwards, spiralling towards the roof.  
  
"He can't still be up there! He knows only too well the dangers of these storms. And look at the rain – he'd be drenched!" Aragorn followed Legolas up the stairs. He spoke more to reassure himself than to convince the Elf, for he too felt deeply uneasy.  
  
  
  
After climbing many flights they came to the door that led onto the battlements. It was firmly closed, the latch down. Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief. The door was always wedged open when anyone was on the roof. The relief was short lived. It turned to sharp anxiety when a faint pounding could be heard from the other side of the door, above the roar of the storm.  
  
Legolas pulled at the handle, but Aragorn reached out a hand to stop him. "It opens outwards." Raising his voice to be heard through the thick wood he told Eldarion to move away from the door. He and Legolas pushed hard, but the door was still jammed fast. They both threw their whole weight against it and suddenly it flew open, sending Aragorn sprawling on the rain soaked flagstones. Legolas caught his balance and moved across to where Eldarion crouched in the meagre shelter of the wall. He was soaked to the skin and shivering.  
  
Out here the storm raged full force. A vicious wind howled around the stonework and driving rain puddled underfoot. Already a thin rivulet of water was running down the stairs. Overhear dark clouds loomed, close enough to touch, it seemed, while the mutter and rumble of thunder could be heard.  
  
The Elf bent down to the boy's level and extended his hand. "Come. Let's get you dry." As they stood, Aragorn enveloped his son in a hard embrace. Legolas, his hair plastered to his head, raised his face to the sky, letting the rain wash over it. There was a sharp metallic taste in the air and he suddenly stiffened in alarm. "We must leave here, now!"  
  
They had taken only two steps when Legolas pushed Eldarion, hard, towards the open stairwell. He fell against his father and stumbled down a few steps, then turned, startled, to gaze at Legolas in surprise. There was a searing flash of light and an ear splitting crash. The sharp taste in the air intensified, but for a while neither Aragorn nor Eldarion could see or hear anything. Deafened and blinded, they crouched in the shelter of the stairwell, until finally with a deep sense of foreboding Aragorn turned back to the roof. He could still barely see but could make out a dark shape against the stones. With a sharp command to Eldarion to stay where he was, Aragorn was at his friend's side in two long strides. Then: "Eldarion. Get help."  
  
He already feared the boy's errand was pointless, but it was the only way to get him safely away from the danger that still flickered above.  
  
It also gave Aragorn a precious moment alone.  
  
He did not hear the terrified boy's footsteps clatter down the stairs, did not hear the thunder that still cracked overhead, as he knelt beside Legolas, heedless of the teeming rain.  
  
"No. No. This isn't possible. It can't be." he whispered to himself.  
  
The Elf lay staring sightlessly at the skies, one arm still outstretched where he had pushed Eldarion. He was open-eyed, but this was subtly, chillingly different from his uncanny habit of sleeping. Terrifyingly different. Trying to deny what he already knew, Aragorn touched Legolas at his throat and wrist, trying to find any faint flicker of life. There was nothing, nor the slightest intake of breath.  
  
Head bowed, Aragorn knelt in silence, tears mingling with the bitter rain still streaming down from the starless, darkling sky.  
  
  
  
1 


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	4. Chapter 2 - Vigil

WHOOPS! Forgot the disclaimer! Only a couple of incidental characters are mine, worse luck. Everything else is Tolkien's. This is set post Return of the King, based on the book rather than the movie, but there will be a small reference to the film later that I couldn't resist. Aragorn has been King for about 20 years. There will be minor spoilers for the book, but I'm assuming you've read it. If not, I don't think it will spoil anything too much.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: You liked it! You reviewed! THANK YOU! Only a short chapter, not much action, but plenty of angst.  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 2  
  
Vigil  
  
  
  
Aragorn's solitude was only too short. Already he could hear the pound of feet on the tower stairs. Slowly he stretched out his hand and gently closed the sightless eyes. Then gathering Legolas in his arms he turned to face those emerging from the stairwell.  
  
The first he saw was Faramir. The Steward gave a small gasp as he saw what the King held, then raised his eyes to meet Aragorn's. "My Lord – is it true?"  
  
Aragorn gave a short, helpless shake of his head and moved past Faramir to the door. Two guards moved aside. Silently Aragorn descended the steps, slowly, suddenly feeling all the weight of his long years. The Elf's body felt light and insubstantial in his arms, belying the strength and resilience inside.  
  
At the foot of the stairs he gently laid Legolas on a long table in the hall. Turning to Faramir he finally spoke. "He saved Eldarion's life. And mine."  
  
"I met Eldarion. He said something had happened up there. I sent him to find his mother and Gimli." With that, a door beside them was flung open and Arwen and Gimli entered in some haste, followed very slowly by Eldarion, who kept his head turned away from the table. Faramir went to the boy and drew him to one side.  
  
Arwen's gaze went first to Aragorn as if to reassure herself that he was safe, then moved to Legolas. She gave a soft cry of dismay and gently reached out her hand to touch his cold face tenderly. Her fingertips barely brushing the skin, she traced every line and feature, mouth, throat, eyes. She ran her fingers along the side of his face, following the outline of his ears and caressing the delicately pointed tips. Then, leaning forward she kissed him gently and stroked his hair, now limp and still damp from the rain.  
  
Aragorn found himself watching Gimli. The Dwarf took a few faltering steps towards the table, his gaze never leaving his friend's face. There was nothing of the anguished roar of grief that Aragorn expected, just this unblinking stare from eyes as hard as stone. His stillness somehow conveyed his emotions far more effectively than the anticipated howls of rage and sorrow.  
  
Finally rousing himself from his stupor, Aragorn touched Arwen gently on the shoulder. She turned to him, and he cupped her face in his hands, brushing away with his thumb a tear that threatened to escape. Then she sighed, lowering her head to rest on his shoulder as his arms encircled her. "I'm sorry, my love" he murmured against her hair, their mutual grief so intense they seemed afire with pain. They stood together, immobile.  
  
A loud thud, a stir of air and a click roused him again. Gimli had turned abruptly and gone into the night through a door into the gardens. His axe still quivered, buried deep in one of the heavy logs that lay next to the fireplace. He was about to follow, then stopped. Gimli would be better on his own. Aragorn understood only too well his need to be alone at the moment, alone with his memories.  
  
He turned at the sound of soft footsteps behind him. "Aragorn?"  
  
"Faramir. Thank you for looking after Eldarion. Where is he?"  
  
"With Éowyn. She's trying to get him to rest. He thinks this is his fault."  
  
Aragorn swore softly. He should have foreseen this. "I will talk to him."  
  
"In the morning. He will be asleep soon if I know Éowyn. My Lord, my Lady – you must decide on…. arrangements." He spoke hesitantly, his own sorrow clear on his face. Aragorn looked again at Legolas' pale, still features.  
  
"Yes. He will be taken to the House of the Kings tonight. He saved the life of my son - he will be honoured. And I must send a messenger to his father in Mirkwood. Faramir, will you take word back to Ithilien?"  
  
Faramir nodded, but before he could reply another voice spoke gruffly behind them.  
  
"And I will go to Mirkwood to tell Thranduil."  
  
Both Aragorn and Arwen turned. Gimli had returned silently and stood beside Legolas. Rain pearled on his hair and beard, but he was not as wet as they expected. Aragorn looked at him in concern. "Are you all right, my friend?"  
  
Gimli only gave a curt nod. Aragorn was far from convinced, but knew better than to press the issue. He went on: "I will stand vigil in Rath Dinen tonight. Will you join me?"  
  
Gimli nodded again. "Yes. We will both be with him tonight. And tomorrow?"  
  
"He is a great hero of this city. He will be laid to rest in the Tomb of the Kings."  
  
Faramir looked a little surprised, but approved wholeheartedly. It was an honour never paid to anyone other than the Stewards in his family, and, in ancient history, the Kings themselves.  
  
Four guards appeared then bearing a bier. Gently Legolas was moved onto it and covered with a richly embroidered cloth. "My Lord, are you ready?" questioned one of the guards. Aragorn realised it was Mardil, Mihal's father, and that it was the second time he had asked the question. He tore his eyes from the covered bier.  
  
"Yes. Faramir? Gimli? Come." The small procession set off. Faramir was at the head in his official capacity as Steward. He was followed by the four guards bearing the bier. Aragorn, Gimli and Arwen walked behind. They left the hall and wound slowly through the streets. The storm was over now but it was late and the streets were deserted. Rain pooled on the flagstones under their feet and from somewhere came an incessant drip, drip of water seeping through a broken gutter. The wind had dropped to a gentle breeze. It carried the scent of the clean, rain-washed hills and forests. Overhead the sky was clearing and a thin moon danced between the gaps in the scudding clouds.  
  
They went on through the citadel gate where the sentinel stared at them in wonder and dismay as they passed by. Turning westward they came at length to a door in the rearward wall of the sixth circle. Their slow feet echoed as they walked down, down, until at last they came to the Silent Street, Rath Dinen. In the House of the Kings a stone table lay, and the bier was placed on this. The guards were dismissed and Aragorn and Arwen bade farewell. She was to return to their tower with Faramir for the sake of Eldarion and Ithilia, but they would return for the funeral rites the next day. As Faramir was about to leave, Aragorn called him back. "Open all the shutters here. And do not close the door when you leave. He - he would not want to be shut in."  
  
2 Faramir obeyed, then he and Arwen left quietly, leaving the place in darkness apart from two small torches at the ends of the catafalque. Aragorn and Gimli each took position at the head and foot. Gimli's axe stood on the floor, the blade between his feet, his hands clasped on the top of the upright haft. They stood motionless, lost in thought, staring outwards, while apart from the soft night sounds outside, silence drifted slowly back like dust.  
  
  
  
To be continued….  
  
(The next chapter will be longer, and will have more action. And more Legolas. It's already written, so you won't have long to wait.)  
  
I lifted one passage straight out of 'Return of the King' - it fitted – and there's a phrase from another book. See if you can spot it.  
  
Your reviews have given me a tremendous buzz. Knowing how much I hate cliff hangers, I was sorry to do that to you, but it was necessary.  
  
aryntrek – I've written an extra scene between Aragorn and Eldarion just for you in chapter 6! E-mail me – see if you think the story is going the same way I do.  
  
Cheysuli, Elwe Singollo, JastaElf, Arwyn – You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?  
  
littlefish - Thank you for your detailed comments. A review from one of my favourite writers! Fantastic! I'm glad you liked the interaction with Legolas and Gimli. There will be more of that later.  
  
Ruby-Kate Gamgee, Princess-of-Dreams, rubberband, Tara – Thanks for your encouragement. Hope you like this installment just as much.  
  
And thanks to everyone for the comments about characterisation – I worked really hard to get them right, they way I imagine them all.  
  
Jay 


	5. Chapter 3 - First Meeting

Sorry for the delay in updating, I know I said I would do it before, but I've had a lot of trouble with my ISP – it keeps crashing and doing a 'go slow'. Damn AOL!

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Chapter Three

First Meeting

Aragorn's thoughts were in turmoil. He constantly replayed the events of that evening, events so sudden and shocking – so senseless – they still seemed unreal. His mind ranged over major happenings in his life, his coronation, his marriage to Arwen, the birth of his children. All were events the Elf had delighted in. He had been especially pleased when their only daughter had been named for his realm. 

He went further back – the war, the chase across half of Rohan in pursuit of the orcs, the long dark of Moria. He knew Legolas hated such places, but had never been able to find out why. It was something the Elf simply would not talk about, and it had been unfair of Gimli to torment him with this fear.

He felt again the vivid flash, his fear that he had been struck blind, his terror for Eldarion, and the dreadful realisation that his friend was dead. Forcing himself away from this final image, though it was seared into his mind indelibly, he tried to recall happier times and found himself remembering the first time he had met Legolas, at Lasgalen, the Court in Mirkwood.

Aragorn had travelled there bearing messages from Elrond. The formal business dealt with, he had gone to the kitchens in search of a late meal. There he encountered another traveller, one of the elves of Mirkwood. The stranger was weary and hungry, and he explained he had just returned from a patrol around the borders of the forest.

"I went down to the south – perhaps further than was wise, as I was alone, but I had received reports that a new evil had come to Dol Guldur, and needed to see how real the rumours were. I had stopped briefly for the night when something spooked my horse, a lone wolf hunting down a deer. The wretched creature disappeared, so I had to return on foot." He paused for a drink of the clear spring water, and Aragorn looked at him thoughtfully. Although the Elf made light of it, it would not have been an easy journey. Alone, on foot, through the darkest regions of Mirkwood from Dol Guldur.

"I thought Elves were supposed to have a way with animals?"

"Not this one! My own horse was lame, so I'd taken one from the stables. It was only after an hour or two I realised _why _it was still in the stables. It tried twice to throw me, and left at the first opportunity. It wouldn't come back, even for me." He sighed. "It deserved better than to fall victim to spiders or wargs, though."

As Aragorn studied his companion more carefully, he could see the tell-tale signs of a warrior. Even now, obviously tired, he had a grace and fluidity of movement that spoke of long years of weapons training. There was a constant alertness, and even here in the palace a long knife hung from his belt.

He suddenly became aware that the Elf was regarding him just as quizzically. "It has been a long time since I saw a man in the halls of Lasgalen. What brings you here?"

Aragorn explained his errand, but did not go into details of his message to the stranger. 

"Elrond? So why are you his messenger?" Still not wanting to go into too much detail, Aragorn merely said that he had been raised in Rivendell, and had only recently started journeying alone. As he described the journey he had had, including an encounter with a band of goblins, the Elf laughed. "You are like me, my friend! We are both wanderers. There are few who do so now, the land is perilous. When your business here is finished, will you journey with me through Lasgalen? There is much I could show you."

Aragorn had learned to make swift judgements. He instinctively felt that the two were indeed alike, and he welcomed the opportunity to get to know the Elf better.

His meal finished, his companion rose and stretched. "Forgive me. I have been travelling for many days. I will see you tomorrow." As the Elf left, Aragorn realised that they had not exchanged names. He assumed the other was one of Thranduil's captains, but rose and went over to the cook. "Who was that, who just left?"

The cook looked at him in some surprise. "That was Legolas." At Aragorn's look of incomprehension, he added "_Prince_ Legolas. King Thranduil's heir."

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The next morning Aragorn was up early and walked through the palace grounds. As he moved further into the forest he became aware of a rhythmic thud. Rounding a corner, he came across Legolas shooting arrows into a series of targets. As he watched, the style of practice changed. Another Elf threw thin discs of wood high into the air, one after the other, often two or three at once, in a never ending stream. By the time each hit the ground it had an arrow straight throughout the centre. It was an impressive display of skill, and Aragorn applauded. He had some skill with a bow himself, having been taught by Elladan and Elrohir, but both he and they preferred the sword.

Legolas turned swiftly, raising a hand in greeting. "Good morning! Will you be ready to leave today to travel Lasgalen with me? You will find it very different to Imladris." 

They made their way back to the halls of Lasgalen, where Aragorn had already packed. He preferred to travel light, and had only a little food, a blanket and a warm cloak. He also took his short bow, a quiver of arrows, and his sword. As they left the Court, they skirted the grounds, heading west along the Forest River. As they travelled upstream the trees changed, fading from beeches to chestnuts, and then to oak. Birdsong rang in the air about them, and Aragorn saw butterflies with wingspans the size of his hand. Squirrels raced among the trees, not the sinister black squirrels he had seen further south, but a russet red, with tufted ears. A pair sat scolding them as they approached, from the safety of a high branch. Aragorn laughed. "Mirkwood is a lovely realm. I had thought it a dark and shadowed place, but this is very different."

"I remember it was once all like this. It was called the Greenwood then. There were many birds and animals, and the glades were bright with sunlight. In the summer we lived among the trees, and seldom used the halls and caves. There were always a few of the great spiders, but they lived near the mountains, and rarely troubled us. But when the Necromancer came to Dol Guldur, the shadow came, and darkness spread like a cloud over the land. We fought it for many centuries, but many were lost to his evil. Outsiders call it Mirkwood now, but I cannot - it is still my home. The White Council finally drove Sauron out only ten years ago, but I fear - something - has returned." The Elf's face was sad, distant, as he recalled the evil which had slowly poisoned the once beautiful forest that was his home.

As they moved deeper into the forest they left the river, travelling north towards the Grey Mountains. The first night they camped they did not light a fire as the night was mild. Even here, only a day's journey from Lasgalen, they set a watch. The next day it rained, a thin drizzle that penetrated even the elven cloaks both wore, soaking their clothes and gear. They saw no animals, everything with sense being safely sheltered from the weather. By evening the rain had stopped, but the ground was soaked, and drips fell incessantly from the trees. That night they lit a small fire, enough to heat their rations and ensure at least dry bedding. They sat by the fire long into the night, talking. 

"I told you I was raised in Rivendell. Lord Elrond is my foster-father." 

Legolas nodded slowly in understanding. "I see. That explains much. So you know Elladan and Elrohir? And Arwen?"

"Yes. I only met Arwen recently. She had been away in Lothlorien for a long time. She's – very beautiful." 

Legolas gave him a strange look and hid a smile. "She is. My father and Elrond hope we will become betrothed. It will strengthen the ties between our lands, and also make an alliance with Lasgalen and Lorien."

Aragorn stared at him in shock. "You - and Arwen? But - I thought – she didn't say anything – oh, I knew I was foolish to hope." His voice stumbled to a halt as the Elf's laughter rang through the trees.

"Fear not. Arwen is a dear friend, I love her like a sister – but not, I think, the way you love her?"

"But – your betrothal?"

"Is wishful thinking by my father and Elrond. We are not lovers – and never have been" he added to reassure Aragorn, who still looked stunned. "It's late. Let's get some rest." Once again Legolas took the longest watch, sitting silently next to the fire for most of the night while Aragorn slept. 

It was on the third day of their journey that Aragorn became uneasy. They had turned west, planning to re-cross the Forest River, loop south, then travel east back to Lasgalen. At times the land rose, or the trees thinned, and ahead they could see the peaks of the Misty Mountains. The forest was silent. No bird sang. No fox barked. The trees grew thickly here and little light reached the forest floor. At his side, Aragorn became aware that Legolas grew more and more tense with each step. They halted in a small clearing. The silence was overwhelming. When the Elf spoke his voice seemed loud in the oppressive stillness. "Something is wrong, but I don't know what it is. I have felt evil in Lasgalen before, but not here – and never anything like this. Stay close. Be careful."

Aragorn nodded, surreptitiously checking his bow, and placing one hand on his sword. Gradually they became aware of a soft sound heading towards them. It was a rustling, padding sound, and now came from all sides. 

Legolas took a step away from Aragorn, giving them both room to move, and instantly had an arrow ready to fire. He gave a cry of warning. "Wargs!" It was a pack of wolves, the biggest and fiercest Aragorn had ever seen. As the first ones came through the trees, Legolas loosed his bow. One, two, three of the creatures fell dead, each with an arrow buried deep in its chest or eye. Aragorn's own bow sang in unison, but he did not have quite the Elf's speed. Switching to his sword he hacked and stabbed at the crowding wolves, their growls and howling cries chilling his blood. Hearing a snarl behind him he whirled, sword raised, to see two wolves springing on him together. Desperately he swung at them, beheading one – as the other fell dead with an arrow through its throat. With barely time to react, he gave a nod of gratitude to Legolas, then returned to the desperate fight.

The attack lulled then, and they both repositioned, checking weapons. Legolas' knife was stained with blood to the hilt – and he had only a few arrows left. Snatching what he could from the bodies around him he thrust them back into the quiver. The wolves had only paused to summon re-inforcements. Howls from the surrounding trees were answered by many others nearby, and a cacophony of growls and snarling broke out. The howling of the wolves was now all around them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off. Several wolves at once burst through the trees, and Legolas reverted to his bow, trying to drop the wolves before the creatures reached them. Even he couldn't keep them all at bay, and more and more were now surrounding them. A wolf larger than any they had yet seen launched itself straight at Legolas. As he moved his stance he stepped back onto the body of a wolf – and fell. Even before he hit the ground his long knife was in his hand, thrust before him to impale the wolf as it jumped. It never reached him. It fell at his feet, Aragorn's last arrow in its side. As the Elf scrambled to his feet he called desperately to Aragorn. "We cannot fight them! We have not enough arrows, and there are still more coming!"

"What do we do?"

"Run!" They turned and raced through the trees, dodging roots and branches as they went. Gradually the sounds of pursuit faded. Suddenly they came out of the trees and found themselves at the top of a steep bank that dropped down into a stream – a tributary of the Forest River. Sliding down the bank they splashed into the water and paused, breathless. There was silence apart from the water. There were no sounds of the wolves following them, and the forest's natural sounds had returned.

Bloody, muddy, and soaked, they stared at each other. Both Legolas' Elven dignity and Aragorn's pride were severely dented. Aragorn waded to the opposite bank, then turned and looked back at Legolas. "I thought Elves were supposed to have a way with animals?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even now, Aragorn felt a reluctant smile growing. His friendship with Legolas had survived that inauspicious start. On their return to Lasgalen he had gone back to Rivendell, but during his wanderings in the wild in subsequent years their paths had crossed several times, in Rivendell, Lorien, Lasgalen, and once on a rainy night on the banks of the Entwash on the borders of Rohan and Gondor. He had eventually revealed to Legolas his true ancestry, and they had sworn allegiance. His journeys then had taken him away on dark roads and he had not seen Legolas for many years. After his meeting with Gandalf, and the capture of Gollum, his first thought had been the Elves of Mirkwood – or Lasgalen, as he had learnt to call it. They were after all the only Elves he knew of who had anything resembling dungeons. He had travelled secretly to Lasgalen – and had there met with Legolas again for the first time in far too long. 

Although Thranduil had not been keen on involving himself in the affairs of men, Legolas had seen the threat and sworn to guard the creature. He eyed him with distaste. "Do not fear, Aragorn, he will be safe here." Gollum hissed and spat at the Elves. As Legolas reached to him to remove the rope bound around his ankle, he sank long sharp fangs, none too clean, into Legolas' hand. He swore sharply, snatching his hand away. Blood dripped from the bite, but again Legolas gently took the pitifully thin leg and removed the rope. Gollum snapped again, but this time the Elf was forewarned. He seemed to sense what Gandalf had not said in so many words, and despite the menace of the creature pitied him.

"Legolas, are you sure your people can guard him?"

"Yes. I will watch him myself. Tirnan and Alfiel will help me when I cannot avoid my duties at Court." Aragorn relaxed slightly. With Legolas himself guarding Gollum, he would not escape. And Tirnan and Alfiel were Legolas' seconds in Mirkwood's army. There were none better than those three in the realm.

Therefore, when Gandalf's message reached him that Gollum had fled and his guards were slain – or worse, taken – he was filled with a deep dread and feared the worst. It was not until he saw the party from Mirkwood arriving at Rivendell for the Council of Elrond, and with relief recognised Legolas at their head, that he realised just how worried he had been. With a brief word to Arwen they went straight to greet the travellers. "Legolas, my friend, when I heard from Gandalf about Gollum I thought you were lost. What happened?"

The Elf's face was weary and strained. "They attacked by night. A large raiding party of orcs. Gollum had evaded us in a tree so I left Tirnan and Alfiel to guard him while I led the attack on the orcs. It was a mistake. They were merely a ruse to divert our attention. Another group went straight to Gollum's tree, slaughtered the remaining guards and went south. They knew exactly where he was."

Aragorn already knew the likely answer to this question, but asked it anyway. "What of Alfiel and Tirnan?"

"Tirnan was killed outright. Alfiel – Alfiel was taken captive." 

Aragorn paled. He knew what orcs did to Elves unlucky enough to become prisoners. And Alfiel was a friend of Legolas'. "I'm sorry. He did not deserve that. He should have died cleanly, in battle."

"I pursued the orcs south with one of the patrols. We caught up with some of them after two days, but Gollum was long gone. I found Alfiel. He died hard." His gaze became distant, unable to escape from the image burned in his memory of his friend's mutilated body. He repeated softly, "He died hard."

~~~~~~~~~~~

With a start Aragorn realised that it was only the day after this reunion that Legolas and Gimli had encountered each other for the first time. There were no instant likings then. With a sense of guilt he realised that he had barely given a thought to Gimli, standing motionless behind him. Although Elf and Dwarf had not known one another long – only about twenty years - there was a true, deep friendship. He wondered what Gimli was feeling now.

TBC

OK, now a little bribery. I didn't get many reviews for chapter 2 (sorry about the muddle uploading that, by the way). So, if you want chapter 4 anytime soon, PLEASE review. My kids are amazed (so I am, to be honest) that anyone likes this enough to review it and say such wonderful things. Many thanks to everyone who's reviewed, especially littlefish for her detailed and supportive comments. Do we have a mutual admiration society?


	6. Chapter 4 - Mistrust

I can't believe ff.net did that to us! I just hope there won't be any more problems -although my ISP is STILL playing up. (And I uploaded this first on Saturday, but ff.net seem to have lost it – I know I saw it once on the net! Anyway, I'm trying again.)  
  
This chapter is based on a mixture of the film, the book, and The Hobbit – and my own interpretation of events.  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
1 Mistrust  
  
  
  
Gimli stood, unmoving, staring with unseeing, burning eyes into the shadows. There was a hard pain in his throat, but his mind felt numb. This was impossible, an awful mistake. He kept expecting Aragorn to turn to him and say they had been wrong. He felt sure that if he turned around he would be able to see the faint stir of his friend's breathing, and would know he still lived after all. Yet, somehow, he could not bring himself to move. This way there was still hope. Once he looked there would be no room for any possible doubt.  
  
He could scarcely believe he felt this pain over anyone, let alone an Elf. But despite the long enmity between their races, and the less than promising start at their first meeting, somewhere on the long road between Rivendell, Lorien and Gondor they had become friends. Close friends. Complete opposites, and each always more than ready with a barbed comment or insult, he knew their friendship puzzled a great many people - not least their own families and friends.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Sauron's messenger had come to the Lonely Mountain, Dain and the other Dwarf chieftains had been greatly troubled. They could not stand against the evil contained in the veiled threat, so eventually the decision had been taken to seek advice. Grudgingly, they accepted that the wisest course was to ask Elrond – and Rivendell was also where Bilbo was, who had to be warned. As Gloin had met Elrond before, and knew Bilbo, he volunteered to carry the message, and Gimli accompanied him. They had a relatively easy journey to Rivendell, but once there Gimli felt very uneasy at being among so many Elves. He did not trust them, did not trust their swift changes of mood from joyous to sad.  
  
He was surprised that he and his father were included in Elrond's Council, but at least it seemed as if their news was being taken seriously. The Council started well – up until the point where those present were named. Some of the Elves were from Mirkwood. Gloin muttered at that, and shot the group a deeply unfriendly look. Elrond continued with his introductions. Their leader was Legolas, the son of King Thranduil. Gimli froze. Thranduil, the Elven King. Gloin, Bombur, and the other survivors of the quest for Smaug's gold often told tales of their long imprisonment deep under the halls of Mirkwood. Beside him, his father spat a curse at the Elf and fingered the haft of his axe longingly. Gimli leaned towards him. "Shh. I don't think you should kill him here. Elrond wouldn't let you. Later."  
  
Gloin subsided, but continued to scowl at the Elf, who appeared oblivious to the glares being cast his way. Typical. He was either too stupid to notice, or too arrogant to care. Instead, his attention was on one of the Men at the council, the son of some sort of king. The Elf leapt to his feet, and Gimli tensed. He confronted the man, Boromir, and in a ringing voice defended another man at the Council, proclaiming his ancestry. Gimli blinked. The heir of Elendil and Isildur? How could this be? As Elrond calmed them, the three sat down again, but remained tense. Gimli sat up straighter and began to pay closer attention to the group. This was interesting.  
  
The debate raged around a gold ring that a strange creature – a Hobbit – had placed on the central table. It was clearly the same ring that Sauron's messenger had been seeking. Boromir seemed to think his people could use the thing to their advantage. Gimli wasn't so sure. Now Thranduil's son was on his feet again. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The ring must be destroyed!"  
  
At this new interruption, Gimli's patience evaporated. "And I suppose you think you're the one to do it? I will never trust an Elf!" That, he conceded, was not the wisest thing to say. Not when he was in an Elf city, surrounded by Elves. All the Mirkwood Elves were standing now, baying for his blood at this insult to their prince. The whole Council was on their feet, shouting, arguing. No - not everyone. The Hobbit who had first brought the ring to them sat quietly in his seat, flinching at the anger surrounding him. "I will take the ring. I will take it!"  
  
Slowly, the arguments died away. Then Gandalf, the Wizard who had accompanied Gloin on the quest for Smaug's treasure, smiled and pledged his help. So, too, did Elendil's heir, Aragorn. Then Thranduil's son said: "And you have my bow". There was no way Gimli could trust the Elf on a quest like this. He would have inherited his father's greed and be after the Ring for himself, so before he knew it, the Dwarf added: "And my axe!" He glared up at the Elf, who shrugged and looked resigned.  
  
And that was it. In the end there were nine of them, a strange cross mixture of races and temperaments. Gandalf seemed to know everyone, and the four Hobbits had grown up together. Aragorn and Legolas – both heirs of tainted bloodlines – were old friends. Only Gimli and Boromir did not know anyone else.  
  
They left Rivendell, and slowly journeyed south. By the time they reached the mountains tempers were becoming frayed. The Ring seemed a constant presence, a tenth member of their company, and travelling conditions were difficult. When the decision was made to turn back and go through the Dwarf realm of Moria, Gimli was delighted. His cousin Balin had led the recolonisation of Moria long ago, and Gimli looked forward to seeing him again.  
  
Entry into the mines was difficult. A fearsome creature lurked in the water in front of the gates, and once they had got past it, it had slammed the gates shut behind them. For three days they walked in near darkness, lit only by the light of Gandalf's staff. The rest of the company seemed tense, but Gimli walked through the halls of his forefathers with pride.  
  
He noticed that of them all, the Elf disliked the darkness most. When he casually mentioned the weight of rock that lay above them the Elf changed the subject, and when he wondered aloud how many more days their journey would take, Legolas started a conversation with Aragorn, or Gandalf - or anyone. After that, Gimli never missed an opportunity to refer to the dark, the length of their journey, how deep underground they were. When he started discussing mining accidents, and Dwarves who were buried alive following cave-ins, the others began to look haggard too, until Gandalf asked him sharply to stop. At this point Legolas abruptly left his side and moved to the head of the group. Gimli could hear him talking to Aragorn in a fierce undertone and hoped it was about himself. However, he had no wish to upset the Wizard, so he stopped tormenting the Elf, at least when anyone else could overhear.  
  
On the fourth day they finally saw a glimmer of light high up ahead of them towards the east. Dimly they could see a chamber opening off the main hall, and went that way to explore. In the centre of the chamber was a stone slab like a tomb. Gandalf translated the runes carved on it. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria." Gimli gave a muffled cry of grief and rage and fell to his knees before the tomb. The chamber was so quiet he could hear the thud of his own heart. The sound grew louder and faster, until the others could hear it too. He suddenly realised it was the sound of drums in the deep caverns.  
  
There was a harsh ring of metal as swords were drawn, and they all turned to face the chamber doors. Arrows flew as the doors were smashed down, and orcs poured into the room. Gimli fought fiercely, wielding his axe with deadly effect, when he heard a cry from one of the Hobbits. Risking a glance in that direction he saw the Elf, surrounded by dead orcs, still fighting on a ledge at the side of the cavern. He was cornered by a huge cave troll swinging a wicked looking chain. Trust the Elf to get himself trapped. There was no one else close enough to help, so Gimli would have to do it. Swinging his axe high he brought it down hard on the troll's foot. It let out a bellow of pain and rage, and glanced down. The heavy chain missed Legolas by a hair's breadth and wrapped around a pillar. It was all the Elf needed. With a nod of thanks to Gimli he launched himself at the troll, firing arrows into its head before leaping off.  
  
At last the battle was over. The troll and all the orcs were dead, and the company for the most part was unscathed, although there had been some worrying moments with Aragorn and Frodo. As they stood in the cavern, breathing hard and checking weapons, Legolas looked across at Gimli. "You have my thanks".  
  
There was no time for further discussion as they fled the chamber, running back through the main hall and down a flight of stone steps that bridged an immense chasm. A yawning gap stretched across their path. One by one they leapt across the gap, Aragorn and Boromir throwing the smaller Hobbits to safety. When Aragorn would have done the same with Gimli he stepped away, glowering. He jumped across himself, but only just made it. His feet slipped on the broken stone, and he was only saved from falling by Legolas lunging forward and grabbing the only part of Gimli within reach. To his deep humiliation, the Elf seized his beard and hauled him onto the steps. He had been saved by the Elf, and the life debt incurred by Legolas, which Gimli had hoped to use to his advantage for a long time, had already been repaid. Scowling, he stormed down the steps, following Boromir and Gandalf to the next bridge.  
  
  
  
  
  
When Gandalf fell, he was transfixed in horror. It did not seem possible that of all of them the wizard was gone. Each of the company revealed their grief in different ways – the Hobbits cried inconsolably, Gimli and Boromir raged at the skies, Aragorn sat, head bowed, on the ground. Legolas stood to one side, staring down the valley. When he eventually rejoined them Gimli could see tears on his face. That surprised him. He did not think the Elf would show emotion in that way, he seemed too aloof. But during the long journey from Rivendell he had learnt much about Elves, and this Elf in particular. He had remained in good spirits through all the hardships they had endured, whether it was rain, snow or enforced travel by night. True, the cheerfulness had seemed rather forced while they travelled through Moria, but he never complained. He had willingly turned his hand to any of the tasks that needed to be done, even digging latrine pits when they camped. Gimli wondered just how different the Elf might be from his father.  
  
He got the opportunity to find out that night. It was late when they left Moria, and by the time they moved a safe distance from the mines and tended to Frodo it was too late to travel to Lorien. "We will stop for what remains of the night and go on in the morning. It would be better to arrive in daylight." Aragorn decided. "I will take the first watch with Merry." To everyone's surprise, Legolas argued against this plan.  
  
"Aragorn, don't be a fool. I know how hard that troll hit you. Let me take the first watch while you rest. Let the Hobbits sleep too, they could do with it. Gimli can stay with me." It was a measure of how bad his headache was that Aragorn made only a token protest before lying down. He was asleep almost immediately. As silence fell over the camp Gimli and Legolas were left alone. Gimli turned to find the Elf was watching him carefully. "My thanks to you, Master Dwarf, for distracting the troll. I think I owe you my life" he said quietly. Then, to Gimli's total disbelief, he held out his hand. Numbly, Gimli shook it, and found himself saying "And I have not thanked you. I would have fallen from those stairs if not for you."  
  
Legolas smiled. "Indeed. I fancy your beard is somewhat longer than it was before your adventure." Gimli bristled at this comment, but could not prevent a small chuckle. Soon they were both laughing, waking Boromir, who looked at the pair in amazement. As the night wore on, they talked. "I think Gloin was less than pleased to see me at Elrond's Council" said Legolas softly.  
  
So, he HAD noticed. "He is not very fond of Elves. Your father imprisoned him and his companions. He can never forgive that!"  
  
Legolas sighed. "It is true my father has no love for dwarves, and can have a hasty temper. We had just had many battles with the spiders, and he thought the dwarves were a distraction, maybe even in league with them. If he had only listened to reason, he would have realised he was wrong."  
  
"But why couldn't YOU do anything?"  
  
"I was not there. We had many patrols out, guarding the borders of Mirkwood. I was commanding the south and west patrols – that was the direction the spiders were coming from. When we drove them off I returned, just days after Bilbo had freed your father and the others. The place was still in uproar!"  
  
Gimli sighed. "Well, thank goodness for Bilbo, then. If it wasn't for him, they would still be in the dungeons!" He looked at the Elf suspiciously. "What? What's so funny?"  
  
"We are Elves, Gimli. We don't have any dungeons. We do not usually have prisoners – our only enemies are the great spiders, and orcs and goblins from the Misty Mountains. I don't think my father really knew what to do with them! Thorin and his companions were held in parts of the wine cellars, and various storage rooms – they were scattered all over the palace. Then he had to feed them. I think he would have thrown them all out long before if it hadn't meant giving in to Thorin's demands. I think he was secretly relieved when Bilbo did the job for him!"  
  
Gimli, who for many years had heard highly embroidered tales of his father's long incarceration in the gloomy dungeons far beneath Mirkwood, of cruel deprivations at the hands of the merciless Elven King, chuckled at the new picture that presented itself. "That is not how my father tells it!"  
  
"It is not what MY father tells anyone else. But I got the truth out of him - and spoke to some of the guards." Their laughter woke Boromir again, who this time gave them a look of disgust. "He and Thorin met again at the Battle of Five Armies, so I made him apologise. He did not like doing so, but they made their peace at last. I am glad, for Thorin was killed later that same day." Legolas paused, recalling the mighty battle and the many Elves and Dwarves who had fallen. "It made me realise how petty their bickering had been. We faced a far greater peril, and stood together."  
  
Gimli nodded. "We still face great peril. And WE must stand together. We are both part of this Fellowship. The Enemy will surely win if we continue to fight each other." They clasped hands in comradeship, then Legolas rose and went to wake Boromir for his watch.  
  
  
  
  
  
Gimli shifted his balance slightly, feeling stiff. That had been the start of their friendship. It hadn't been instant, and there had been difficult moments, particularly when they first arrived in Lorien. But it had lasted. However, he was a relative newcomer in the Elf's long life - while he had known Legolas for a matter of a mere twenty years or so, Arwen had known him for far, far longer. Thousands of years. He could scarcely comprehend such a time. He had not spoken to Arwen this night, but found himself wondering how she was faring with Eldarion's grief and guilt.  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
And once again, THANKYOU to everyone who reviewed – you wouldn't BELIEVE how great a review makes me feel (unless you're a writer too!)  
  
In response to specific comments from some reviewers:  
  
Nova Reikon: I assume you're referring to my name for Legolas' home in Mirkwood, Lasgalen. It's straight from Tolkien – Mirkwood is renamed Eryn Lasgalen after the war of the ring, so if you don't like it, complain to Tolkien or his estate!  
  
Waterfall: thanks for your wonderful comments. Sorry, Aragorn doesn't do CPR. I don't care if he is a healer, it would mean no story! (And what does 'mostly' mean?)  
  
Littlefish: good that you liked the new chapter. I'm glad you liked Gimli's reaction and Aragorn's decision - I put a lot of thought into these, and all the characterisations. I loved your update, but wait with bated breath and bitten nails for the next!  
  
Ithilien: wow, another review from a favourite writer! I'm glad you like Ithilia ; ) and Eldarion's view – you're quite right, Legolas' thing about caves IS relevant – wait for chapter 5 (the real chapter 5, that is!). I'm sorry I made you cry, but WOW! It must have been really effective – I nearly cried, and I wrote it!  
  
TreeHugger: ANOTHER review from a favourite writer! (now all I need is Thundera, Cassia or Jocelyn for a complete set!) And someone else who cried over chapter 2 – if you think that's sad, wait for the end of the story, though there are a few surprises in store before then.  
  
I had great fun writing the meeting between Legolas and Aragorn, especially when Arwen was mentioned. Thanks for your comments about Legolas' friend – I don't do graphic detail (or slash) – I prefer to leave it to the imagination.  
  
BTW, the comments about Gollum's guards – you will get the chance to know them better in my next story, which is a kind of prequel to this one.  
  
  
  
Next up – Arwen.  
  
  
  
Jay 


	7. Chapter 5 - Friendship

Author's Notes: In the main part of this chapter, Arwen, Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir are roughly the equivalent of our early to mid teens - I have no idea what that makes them in Elf years!  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Friendship  
  
  
  
Silently, Arwen and Faramir returned to the tower where she and Aragorn lived. The house was in near darkness, a single torch burning at the door, and a few candles still lit in the hallways. She turned to Faramir. "Thank you. Will you stay here tonight, or return to your own house?"  
  
"Éowyn is still here. I will wait for her. We will stay if you need us."  
  
"Thank you" she said again softly.  
  
Leaving the room, she moved to the stairs leading to the upper floors. At Eldarion's room she opened the door quietly and went in. Éowyn was in a deep chair next to the bed. She was dozing, but as Arwen entered she looked up and rose to her feet.  
  
"Éowyn, thank you for staying here. Is Eldarion all right?"  
  
"He's sleeping now, but I think he's having bad dreams."  
  
"Yes. I can stay with him now. Faramir is downstairs, waiting for you. Can you both stay tonight, please?"  
  
"Of course." Éowyn replied as she left the room.  
  
Arwen sat in the chair Éowyn had vacated. Eldarion was asleep, but restless. She watched him intently. He had Aragorn's dark looks, but her fairer skin - and his ears were slightly pointed. She knew he would be deeply upset at what had happened - he rather tended to hero-worship Legolas. She was also sure he would blame himself. He had his father's tendency to take responsibility for events over which he had no control. It was a trait she simultaneously loved and hated.  
  
For the first time in that long night, she allowed herself to relax, relinquishing the iron control with which she held herself, both as daughter of Elrond and as Queen of Gondor. She remembered the young Elf prince she had first met at her father's court long, long ago, and gradually the tears began to fall.  
  
  
  
It was the custom of the three Elf lords to meet in council every ten years, and on this occasion it was her father's turn to host the gathering. The household had been in preparation for weeks. Rooms had been prepared, bedding laundered and the banners of the Lords and their captains dusted down.  
  
He brothers had attended the last two councils, and now Thranduil was to bring his son for the first time. As heir it would be part of his training to take part in the council and gradually to represent his father at audiences. Arwen was glad her future did not hold such trials. Her brothers would both be Lords, Elladan of Rivendell, and Elrohir of Lothlorien when Celeborn and Galadriel departed, and Elrond was already training them in their duties. For now, though, she was mistress of Rivendell, as her mother was away in Lorien and would return with Celeborn the next day.  
  
When the party from Greenwood the Great arrived, she looked at Thranduil's son with interest. He was a little older than she was, a little younger than her brothers, with an air that spoke of the possibility of much fun for the four of them. The initial introductions were all formality. "Lord Elrond, may I present my son, Prince Legolas." Thranduil announced.  
  
Legolas bowed low, both to Elrond, and, to her acute embarrassment, to Arwen herself. "My Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen, I am honoured to meet you."  
  
In her turn, Arwen curtsied. "Your Majesty, you are most welcome to our house. Prince Leg'as - Legolas - I bid you welcome." She flushed at the error, but it served to break the formality, and she heard her father laugh.  
  
"You will not be needed yet. Arwen, will you show Legolas Rivendell?" She nodded, and pulling him behind her, led him away to meet her brothers.  
  
They had somehow heard of her slip, and exchanged twin's glances as they approached. "Hello, Leg'as. Welcome to Rivendell."  
  
"Yes, we are pleased to meet you again, Leg'as."  
  
Without showing a flicker of reaction, Legolas smiled at the brothers. "Ellahir, Elrodan - thank you for the welcome to your city. I am sure I will find much of interest here."  
  
It was as if he had passed some sort of initiation. From that moment the four were inseparable, and roamed the whole valley of Rivendell, ranging up onto the moors above the valley, and as far as the Ford of Bruinen. They did not quite dare to cross the forbidden Ford towards the Trollshaws, despite Elladan's prompting - Elrond's wrath could be formidable.  
  
  
  
Eldarion was growing more restless, tossing and turning. He cried out once, and Arwen touched him gently on the shoulder. He awoke with a start. "Mother? What is it?" His face clouded as he remembered. "You've been crying. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."  
  
"Shhh. No. It's not your fault - there's nothing anyone could have done. Go back to sleep" she soothed him. "If you like, I'll tell you about the first time I went to Mirkwood with your uncles. It was called the Greenwood then. We all got into a lot of trouble one day."  
  
"Tell me. I can't imagine you ever being naughty, mother."  
  
She smiled at him as she recalled the day they had explored Legolas' home. The next Ten Year Council had been held at Lasgalen. One of them had committed some minor misdemeanour, she could not recall what - but it had roused the ire of the King. She had barely begun her tale when Eldarion fell asleep again, but she was lost in memories.  
  
  
  
"And stay inside Lasgalen!" roared Thranduil.  
  
"Yes, father" Legolas replied meekly. They looked at one another.  
  
"Now what can we do?"  
  
"I'll show you the caves under the palace. My grandfather built this place in the Second Age, and the tunnels seem to go on for miles. We'll need torches - it's dark down there."  
  
As they moved deeper into the cave system Legolas explained the history. "Part of the Forest River ran through here and made these caves, and Oropher excavated some of the other parts. The caves nearest the surface are used for storage, but my father tells visitors that deeper underground he has dungeons for any unwelcome guests."  
  
The cave walls in places glistened with water, and the air was chill. Their voices echoed, and outside the circle of light from the torches they could see nothing. The tunnels and caves branched and interlinked, so Arwen had no idea how far they had come. "Perhaps the part about unwelcome visitors is right" she suggested. "They'd never find their way out again."  
  
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances. "But you know the way, don't you?" they said to Legolas.  
  
"Ye-es. Of course I do. This way" He led them down another passageway. It twisted and turned, and branched off into darkness at several points. At times it was difficult to make out the main route. At length they came out into a large cavern. The rock seemed different here, and high up on one side a gleam of light showed. "I have no memory of this place at all." He sighed. "I think we'd better go back." They followed Legolas back down the tunnel they had come through, the torches flickering in the draught from the hole behind them. He soon faltered and peered down a tunnel that led off to the right. "I think that's the way we came - come on."  
  
The new passage continued to twist on itself but eventually they saw it widen ahead. They were in a large cave - and high up a gleam of light showed. "How did we get back here again?" queried Elladan.  
  
"Don't worry" said his brother. "It will be quicker if we climb up and get out through that gap. Arwen? Do you think you can do it?"  
  
She looked up at the wall consideringly. "Yes, of course. Can you?" She glared at Elrohir and threw the challenge back at him.  
  
Legolas laughed. "All right. We'll go that way. It doesn't look too difficult, but I'm sorry I got us lost. Elladan, you go first."  
  
Elladan jumped and caught at an overhanging rock. Finding hand and footholds he quickly scrambled up until he could pull himself through the gap. He turned to peer down. "It's easy. Elrohir - you next. Come on."  
  
Elrohir followed his brother up the side of the cave. He had nearly reached the top when the rock beneath one foot broke away. He clung to the wall for a moment, frozen, then carefully pulled himself up a little further. His foot, reaching for a toehold, kicked against the rock, and another stone broke off and fell. Then a whole slab of rock, loosened by the other movements, broke away and crashed to the ground below him. It was followed by a cascade of stones, pebbles and soil which gradually slowed and stopped. Elladan had lunged forward and seized his brother's wrists before he fell, then with a heave hauled him up and through the hole. "Are you two all right?!" he cried.  
  
Arwen coughed, her throat and eyes stinging from the dust. "I am, but I think Legolas is hurt. He's not moving"  
  
"Elbereth! Is he dead?"  
  
Picking her way over the loose stone and rubble on the floor she knelt beside Legolas. He had jumped forward when Elrohir nearly fell, and had been hit by the rockfall. A slab of rock lay across one leg and he was covered with rubble and debris. His upper body was twisted as he had tried to shield himself and get clear. Carefully she took his wrist and felt his pulse, the way her father had shown her. "N - no. I don't think so. He's alive. Elladan, what are we going to do?" She gazed up at her brothers far above, feeling lonely and very scared. The torches had gone out when they were dropped and the cave was in near total darkness. The faint light from above did not penetrate this far.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir had a hurried conversation, then Elladan called down to her. "I'll go and get help. Elrohir will stay here and talk to you. I'll be as fast as I can. Don't worry!" They disappeared from the hole, then Elrohir was back.  
  
"He's gone to get help now. I don't think we're too far from Lasgalen, so it won't be long."  
  
"But Thranduil told us not to go outside! He'll be angry!"  
  
"Arwen, if we've killed his son that will be the least of our worries. Father will have our ears for this!"  
  
Arwen had gone rigid at Elrohir's first words, but managed a weak smile at the final sentence. It was Elrond's favourite threat whenever they did something wrong. A slight movement beside her brought her attention back to Legolas. He muttered something about darkness and his eyes flickered. "Legolas? Legolas, can you hear me? It's Arwen."  
  
"Ar - Arwen?" His voice was faint, the merest breath.  
  
"Yes. Don't try to move. Someone's coming soon." He turned his head towards her. As he shifted slightly he gave a gasp of pain. "I said DON'T try to move! Keep still!"  
  
His eyes were open now, and his voice a little stronger. "Why? What happened?"  
  
She was worried by this, but kept talking to reassure him. "We're in the caves under Lasgalen. The side fell in and some of the rocks hit you. It's going to be all right. I'm going to move some of the stones now." Carefully she began to pick the rubble off him. She could remove most, but the heavy slab was beyond her. "I can't move this. It's too heavy. I'm afraid if it drops back it will hurt you even more. I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded, turned his head more carefully and looked up at the shaft of light. "Who's that up there? Ellahir?"  
  
She almost sobbed with relief, and gave a watery smile. "No, it's Elrodan. Ellahir's gone to get help." She raised her voice. "Elrohir! He's awake!"  
  
"Thank the Valar! Legolas, are you all right?"  
  
"Wonderful. We must do this again one day." Beneath the banter Arwen could hear a tension in his voice. He was very pale and his pulse was racing. There was a deep gash on the side of his head. His hair was matted with blood, and there was a tracery of blood on his face. He moved again and was unable to suppress a sharp hiss. To take his mind off things, Arwen thought back ten years to when they had explored Rivendell.  
  
"Do you remember when you fell in the river?" she asked him.  
  
"Fell? You pushed me in!"  
  
"Actually, it was Elrohir who pushed you. Because you'd been talking to that girl who came with the Lothlorien group."  
  
"Alyssia? I'd forgotten about her."  
  
"Forgotten? You knew her name straight away!" Legolas laughed, then winced. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"  
  
"No. It's not so bad now. I can't really feel much." At that, Arwen was more worried than ever, but kept on talking.  
  
"Do you remember the time when Elladan dared us to go across the ford and up to the wood? He said there were trolls there."  
  
"He was right. Elrohir and I crept up there one night and nearly got caught. I don't know what I was most scared of - the trolls, your father, or mine!"  
  
"I never knew that! Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Arwen. "Why didn't you ask me to go with you?"  
  
"I don't think Elrohir wanted you to see how scared he was!"  
  
"Or how scared YOU were?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
She could tell his attention wasn't really on her. His eyes kept darting around the cavern, trying to see into the darkness, and up at the wall of rock Elladan and Elrohir had climbed. Parts of it still looked unstable, and she prayed that more wouldn't come down. Outside the cave, Elrohir leaned through the hole again. His movement caused a fresh shower of small stones to rain down. She gave a gasp of fright and tried to lean over Legolas to shield him. He looked up at her.  
  
"Arwen, what are you doing? Get out of the way! It's coming down again!" His voice was weak, but he sounded furious with her.  
  
"No! Elrohir, the wall is collapsing again!"  
  
"Arwen, get back! It won't help him if you get trapped too."  
  
Now Legolas added his voice again. "Move! This whole side of the cave could give way. You must get out of the way, Arwen, please!" He was angry, but there was a stark fear in his eyes.  
  
"NO! I'm not leaving you!" she said fiercely. "Elrohir, move back. Away from the side. I think that's what's causing it." He disappeared from the hole. As he moved a few more stones fell but then the shower stopped. "That's better. You'll have to stay there. Don't come any closer. It's too weak." She spoke calmly, but now her heart was racing nearly as fast as Legolas'. She could no longer see Elrohir, but could still faintly hear his voice. She called again. "Is there any sign of Elladan yet?  
  
"No. He's been gone a long time."  
  
"What if a spider got him?!" She could not quite keep the tremor out of her voice.  
  
"Don't worry. I told you, we're quite close to Lasgalen."  
  
"But Legolas told me they sometimes attack someone on their own, even here!"  
  
"He was probably trying to scare you. Ask him."  
  
She looked down at Legolas doubtfully. He didn't really seem to be aware of her now. "I don't think he can hear me."  
  
"Arwen, talk to him. Keep him awake! Wait - I can hear someone." There was a long pause, then: "It's Elladan. It's all right, Arwen, someone's coming."  
  
She gave a sigh of relief. "Elladan?" What's going to happen?"  
  
"Father and Thranduil are going through the tunnels. When I described the cave, he knew where you were. It will be easier if you come out that way. If they can't do that there's some people here with ropes to pull you up."  
  
It seemed a long time, but eventually she could see a faint flicker of light approaching, and heard voices calling her. She got to her feet as her father, Thranduil and several Lasgalen Elves came out of one of the passages. Elrond held her close. "Are you hurt? No? What about Legolas?"  
  
She turned to look behind her. Thranduil was already there, with Legolas leaning back against him. It seemed incongruous to see the stern king kneeling in the dirt, cradling his son's head. "Elrond? What can you do?" His voice sounded curt.  
  
Elrond examined Legolas carefully. He did not seem too worried by the gash on his head, but his face was grave as he peered under the heavy stone. He beckoned several of the Elves over. "We need to lift this. It will hurt" he warned.  
  
"I don't care. Just do it. Get me out of here" whispered Legolas. For the first time his control slipped, and she glimpsed the pain and fear underneath. Arwen returned to his side and took his hand. "Ready?" He nodded.  
  
As the heavy slab was lifted, circulation returned, and with it, pain. He gripped her hand so tightly her fingers hurt, but he made no sound. Beside her, she could hear Thranduil murmuring something in Sindarin, so softly she could not make out the words. At last the stone was heaved to one side. The brown material of his leggings was dark with blood, and the ground beneath glistened wetly. As Elrond ran gentle fingers over his leg, Legolas gave a soft cry and suddenly went limp. His hand went slack in Arwen's and his head sagged against his father's shoulder. Thranduil's voice broke off abruptly and he made an odd sound, but Elrond gave a sigh of relief.  
  
"This is for the best. His leg is broken, quite badly. I can see the bone. I need to splint and set it, then we can get him back to Lasgalen." He looked at up. "Don't worry. He should be safe now." Tears started welling in her eyes, and she ducked her head so no one would notice. She took a quick sideways look at Thranduil. His face was grey and lined with worry at the fear of losing his only child. She knew his wife had died in childbirth many years ago, and the baby, a girl, with her. Her father had not been there but he had said he would have been unable to save her. She prayed he could do something this time. She did not think Thranduil could endure another loss like that.  
  
The whole process took a very long time, and Legolas did not regain consciousness until they were back at Lasgalen. As they eventually set off Arwen overheard Thranduil talking to her father. "Tomorrow I will have these passages and caves sealed. They have become far too dangerous. He could have died, Elrond, they could all have died! This must never happen again."  
  
Elrond agreed, but then, with the ghost of a smile, asked "But what about your dungeons?"  
  
Thranduil gave Elrond a sharp look, but to Arwen's eternal amazement reluctantly returned the smile. "I don't need to tell anyone they've been sealed, do I?"  
  
  
  
Eldarion was asleep again, and seemed calmer. Outside, the sky was growing lighter and she realised with a start it was nearly dawn. The accident had happened so long ago, but she remembered every detail vividly. The physical scars had healed quickly, but Legolas had been left with a lingering dislike of caves and such places. As far as she knew, he had never spoken of the incident since. Certainly, Aragorn did not know, and she was sure Legolas had never told Gimli. Their unending taunts could be exhausting, but were always light-hearted, never cruel. The Dwarf would not mock the fear, and would never have played the trick in the Glittering Caves if he had known the truth.  
  
A nagging doubt at the back of her mind regarding the events that evening - yesterday - suddenly crystallised into certainty. They had made a dreadful mistake, and she had to see Aragorn before it was too late.  
  
  
  
TBC 


	8. Revelations

Wow! Over 50 reviews! This is fantastic - thank you, everyone.  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Revelations  
  
  
  
Arwen hurried downstairs to where she had left Faramir the night before. He and Éowyn sat together by the window watching the dawn. It was obvious neither had slept all night.  
  
She wasted no time in soft words or greetings. "Éowyn, Faramir, I need you to come with me. We're making a terrible mistake, I must go to Aragorn at once."  
  
Hope flared in their faces. "You mean -." began Faramir.  
  
He face saddened. "No. Not that. I'm sorry, I should have thought. Come with me, I'll explain when we meet Aragorn and Gimli."  
  
She led them through the streets of Minas Tirith. They were followed at a discreet distance by two guards. It was very early and only a few people were about. They stared and hurriedly bowed as they watched their Queen pass by. Behind her, Faramir and Éowyn were exchanging mystified looks. Overhead the sky was a clear blue, and the day was already warm. It was a beautiful morning.  
  
The guards on duty saluted as they passed through the walls. At length they came again to Rath Dinen. At the end of the street was the House of the Kings. The door stood open. Arwen ascended the steps, then for the first time faltered. "Aragorn. Gimli." She spoke quietly, but they both turned at her voice.  
  
"What is it? Is anything wrong?"  
  
"Nothing else. But I've realised there's something I have to tell you, so you understand."  
  
Now all four looked mystified, but they followed Arwen back onto the steps where they sat down. Gimli cast a look over his shoulder at the still figure within. Aragorn could not suppress a sigh of relief after standing during the long night's vigil.  
  
Swiftly she told them of the incident deep under Lasgalen, so long ago. "I don't think he talked to anyone about it, ever. You all know how stubborn he can be - could be" she corrected herself.  
  
Aragorn picked at a loose thread on his tunic. "I see. It explains a lot. I knew he was uneasy when we travelled through Moria, but none of us was comfortable. Except Gimli. But he never said what was wrong."  
  
"He thought that his fear was a weakness. He would never admit to it." Beside her, Gimli had listened in silence. She could feel a barely suppressed anger in him, which suddenly erupted into words.  
  
"Why did he never say anything? All the way through Moria I tormented him about the mines. I teased him about cave-ins! And yesterday I laughed with you about our visit to Aglarond. Why did he never say anything? Blasted Elf!"  
  
As his anger and grief ran out the last two words caught up with him. He stopped, horror struck, and tried to take them back. "Arwen - Aragorn - I'm sorry. I didn't mean -."  
  
Arwen caught his hand. "It's all right. We know what you mean." From somewhere she found a small smile. "It's what you always called him when he won an argument or you were exasperated with him."  
  
Now she addressed herself to the other three as well. "I didn't say anything before, because it was not my secret, not my business to talk of his fears. But now - Aragorn, I know you mean to honour him. But the Tombs of the Kings are not the place for him. He - he would not want to be entombed in cold stone." She stopped, exhausted by the vehemence of her words. She saw Aragorn, Gimli, Faramir and Éowyn all nodding in agreement as they pondered what she said.  
  
"Yes. You are right, of course. I should have thought. But what do we do instead?"  
  
Arwen paused then, shooting an apologetic look at Faramir. As she continued, Aragorn understood her hesitance.  
  
"I think we should give him to the flames. Let the fire and smoke carry his spirit to the four winds. He was always a wanderer. Let him wander now." She finally ran out of words, and stopped.  
  
Faramir had tensed at this reminder of his father's death and his own near immolation, but as he considered what she said he found it made more and more sense. Aragorn and Gimli, too, initially reluctant - it was how they disposed of orc carrion - found themselves approving. It was fitting. There was no shame in it, and it was truly a better tribute for Legolas than a dark tomb, or even the cold earth.  
  
There was silence for a moment. All five were tired after the long sleepless night, and grief and strain were etched on their faces, even Éowyn, who perhaps knew him less well than the others. Then Faramir rose to his feet and pulled Éowyn to hers. "Aragorn, go home. Talk to your son. The guards can take the vigil, and I can do all that is necessary. I will see you later. Go."  
  
Gimli spoke his agreement. "Aragorn? He's right. There's nothing more we can do for now. And if the rites are to be officially observed, you need to be more formally dressed."  
  
Aragorn looked down at himself. His tunic was frayed at the edge, and his leggings had a muddy grass stain on one knee from when he had been playing with Ithilia. He sighed. "You're right, Gimli. This has to be done properly. And I need to see Eldarion."  
  
When they returned to their tower the household was waking. Aragorn went to find Eldarion. His son was awake, listlessly staring out of the window and kicking the stone wall. He did not turn as his father approached and stood behind him. The window faced west over the city. Roofs, walls and towers fell away before them, down towards the Anduin. In the distance the first peaks of the Ered Nimrais shone in the early sun.  
  
Eventually Eldarion spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, father. I shouldn't have gone up to the tower. I stayed too long, and the wind blew the door shut. I tried, but I couldn't open it. It's all my fault!"  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes at the naked anguish in his son's voice, and rubbed the boy's back, soothing him the way he had done when Eldarion was very small. "No. It's not. I said you could go, does that make it my fault?"  
  
Startled, Eldarion turned to face him for the first time. "No. Of course not."  
  
"And instead of coming down immediately, Legolas stayed on the roof, to feel the rain and the wind. Is it his fault?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"So what makes it your fault? It's not, you know. There's nothing anyone could have done."  
  
"That's exactly what mother said."  
  
"And did you believe her?"  
  
Eldarion shook his head. "No. Not really."  
  
Aragorn continued stroking his son's back, holding him close. "And now? Do you believe me?"  
  
Eldarion paused. "I'm - not sure."  
  
*At least he didn't say no.* Aragorn thought. "Think about what I've said. And believe it. It's true." He moved away then, deciding not to pressure Eldarion any more at this time. "I'm going to see your mother and Gimli. We'll be leaving for Rath Dinen soon, but I'll see you before we leave."  
  
"Can't I come?"  
  
"No. NO" he repeated, as Eldarion looked at him rebelliously. "You're too young. I'll see you later. And don't worry." He left then, heavy hearted, afraid of the effect all this would have on his son.  
  
When he returned to the main rooms downstairs, Faramir had come back. They ran over the details of the morning's ceremony together, then Aragorn called Arwen and Gimli over. "I've arranged an escort to go with Faramir to Ithilien, and to Mirkwood with you, Gimli. Are there any other messengers to send? Anyone else who should be informed?"  
  
"My brothers in Imladris. They've known Legolas since we were children. They will be greatly saddened by this news."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Very well. Gimli?"  
  
"Sam, Merry and Pippin. And there is a lady in Lothlorien. Alyssia. Legolas spent a great deal of time with her when we went to Lorien some years ago. And I know he has been back several times since then."  
  
Arwen looked amazed. "Alyssia? I had no idea! I knew her well when I lived in Lorien, but I didn't know Legolas had seen her again." She gave a sad smile. "I remember Elrohir was jealous, though."  
  
Aragorn dug in his mind for a clue to the name. It seemed somehow familiar, but he could not bring a face into view. He was immensely saddened. It seemed there were several things he had never known about his friend, but in a lifetime of thousands of years he supposed he could never know everything there was. But Legolas had deserved the chance to find happiness again. *Alyssia. I wish I could have known her.*  
  
A door at the far end of the room opened, and Eldarion came towards them with a purposeful expression. "Mother? Father? I want to be there this morning when - when you bury him."  
  
Aragorn and Arwen exchanged worried glances. "No, Eldarion. I explained. And it is not to be a burial. There will be a funeral pyre instead."  
  
He looked at them speechlessly. "Burning? But why?"  
  
"Legolas hated being enclosed, or underground. We think this is what he would want. But Eldarion, you cannot be there. You are too young, I think you would be too upset. Your father is right, you cannot come."  
  
There was a soft cough behind them "My Lord, my Lady - if I might talk to you - ."  
  
It was Faramir, being formal. That meant they wouldn't like what he was about to say. Aragorn gave a sigh of resignation. "Eldarion, see if Ithilia is awake yet. Bring her down if she's ready." Eldarion, with a dark look at his parents - he knew when he was being got rid of - turned and left with Gimli. "What is it, Faramir?"  
  
"Aragorn, I was only five years old when my mother Finduilas died. I was not permitted to attend her funeral - they said I was too young. I never quite forgave my father for that, for not allowing me to say goodbye. I think you should allow Eldarion to come. In the circumstances, I think he needs to. He loved Legolas. He will bitterly resent it if he is prevented from going."  
  
Aragorn sank into a chair, his head in his hands. "Perhaps. Arwen, how can I be so wrong? I thought I knew Legolas, knew my son. Yet it takes others to point out what is best for both of them. All that I do goes amiss!"  
  
Arwen sat on the arm of the chair and leaned against him. "Not wrong. Just overwhelmed. Trying to think of too many things at once. The vigil was your idea. Gimli was proud to do it. I think it helped both of you to sort out your thoughts and feelings."  
  
Aragorn gave a short laugh. "Yes. I was remembering the first time we met. We had some wild adventures!"  
  
"Adventures, father? Can you tell me about them one day?"  
  
Aragorn twisted round. Eldarion stood there, having returned silently. He had his mother's gift of approaching noiselessly and startling him. "Yes. But not now. You'd better go and get ready if you're coming with us."  
  
"I can come? You mean it? Thank you!" He turned and ran out of the room.  
  
Arwen looked down at Aragorn, still slumped in the chair, still in the clothes he had been wearing the day before. "You'd better go and get ready too. If you're coming with us," she told him gently.  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: There will be more Aragorn and Elladan/Elrohir to come in my next stories. Stay tuned!!  
  
Many thanks again to all reviewers - especially if you've reviewed more than once, if you've given a l o n g review, or if you're on my favourites list (I have several favourite authors who aren't on my official list on ff.net).  
  
Thanks to Jocelyn - I love her story - for a great review, and to all my regulars. (PS LOVE your new story!!!! Poo sticks!!!)  
  
Tonight's prize goes to seafoamgreen for guessing where the previous chapter was headed!!!  
  
I also want to say thanks to Thundera, Cassia, Treehugger, Ithilien, Cat, littlefish, Llinos, and everyone else I read on a regular basis, for YOUR stories. I love them, so forgive me for not reviewing properly. For some reason, the review window keeps disappearing, and I have to start over. When it happens for a third time, I give up! Rest assured, you are not forgotten, I do appreciate your fics and hard work, and WILL review when I can! Jay. 


	9. Chapter 7 - Fire And Smoke

Author's notes: I've reposted chapter 6 as there is a small but crucial difference near the end. I'm not sure what the significance is yet, but will explore the possibilities in a future story.  
  
Meanwhile, here is the final chapter at last!!!!  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Fire And Smoke  
  
As Aragorn changed into formal robes he wondered who this was for. *Legolas wouldn't care a brass farthing what I wear, he hated ceremonials nearly as much as I do* he thought. But this would be a public ceremony, the Elf was a hero of the city, and well loved.  
  
In the end he selected sombre black. Black trousers, a black silk shirt, and a tunic stiff with black and silver embroidery. Over this he wore a black cloak with a lining of grey silk. The only ornaments he wore were the winged crown, used only for ceremonial occasions, and the pendant Arwen had given him at their betrothal, which he never removed.  
  
Downstairs, all were ready. All were dressed in their most formal clothes, Faramir with his badge, and Steward's Sword of Office. Arwen wore a dress of plain, soft grey, and again a long cloak of black silk. She had the thin circlet of her rank, and a necklace, a single white stone that shone like fire. Her dark hair was unbound, and streamed down her back to her waist like a waterfall.  
  
Word had spread like wildfire, and the streets were lined with people as he returned to Rath Dinen. At the House of the Kings the bier was lifted by the same guards as before, and the procession wound its way to an open patch of green behind the city. There the pyre had been built. Wood was piled under it and the bier was placed in the centre. Kindling was built high all about it, and all was drenched in sweet oil. Legolas lay peacefully, remote, all cares gone.  
  
Aragorn approached the pyre and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "Today we gather to say farewell to Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, Lord of Ithilien, Companion to the Ring Bearer, a hero of this city, and my dear friend. He died to save the life of my son Prince Eldarion and is worthy of the highest honours the White City can confer. He will not be forgotten, and his memory will live on in my household for all time."  
  
A guard held two torches ready. He gave one each to Aragorn and Gimli, who approached the pyre steadily. On Faramir's signal they lit the pyre. Aragorn thrust the brand into the fuel and at once it crackled and roared into flame. Gimli did the same, with a hand that betrayed only the slightest tremor.  
  
They stood back and saluted their comrade, a warrior's salute. Then all those present gave the city's mark of respect, right hand placed over the heart, head bowed.  
  
Aragorn spared a glance at Eldarion. His head was bowed, but his eyes were fixed on the pyre. There were tears on his face, but also a new pride and determination. A maturity. Aragorn realised sadly that he was no longer a child.  
  
All was wreathed in fire and smoke, and nothing else of the pyre could be seen, for which Aragorn was thankful. As the flames climbed higher, plumes of smoke rose into the air, billowing towards the clouds. A slight breeze blew the smoke into streamers, which drifted towards the north. North, across Ithilien, towards Mirkwood - Eryn Lasgalen now - the two lands he had loved.  
  
The flames were fiercer now and the thick smoke rose still higher, a great cloud spreading out over the city. The breeze strengthened, and ash and smoke were blown away on the wind, spreading north and west across the lands they had travelled together.  
  
Aragorn watched the smoke and ash drift across the sky. He could feel the heat of the flames on his face, but it wasn't that, or the smoke, which caused his eyes to burn and sting. *Goodbye my friend. I'll miss you. We could not have achieved the quest without you, without your archery skills, your eyesight, your unfailing good humour, your friendship. Goodbye.*  
  
At the other end of the pyre, Gimli stood motionless. His thoughts were chaotic. *I thought you were immortal, that you would be left when I died. I never considered that I would be the one left behind, never thought you could die. I'm sorry, so sorry for tormenting you about Moria and Aglarond. I never knew. Why did you never tell me?!*  
  
Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone. *I never really knew you, even when you ruled Ithilien with Faramir and me. You were always - remote. Perhaps I was in awe of you. But I recall the first time I saw you, at Edoras. I had never seen such beauty in anyone. I think I loved you a little - until I met Faramir. I know he will grieve for you - but I wish I had known you better.*  
  
Beside Éowyn, Faramir stared at the pyre. *We worked well together in Ithilien. I cannot imagine who will take your place, who could ever take your place. I wish I was not the one to take word to your people. I dread this task, this duty I have undertaken, they will find it so hard to accept.*  
  
Eldarion, although his head was dutifully bowed, stared unblinkingly at the flames. *If only I had not gone up to the tower to watch the storm. If only the door hadn't slammed shut. If only we hadn't stayed on the roof. Legolas, you said you were going to teach me archery. Father said it isn't my fault, and I suppose it isn't, not really, but still, I'm sorry, so sorry.* Hot, scalding tears ran down his face and he sobbed.  
  
Arwen held her son close as he cried. Maybe Faramir was right, and he needed to be here, but it was not easy on him. Or her. *Legolas, I miss you so much. I love you. I know father wanted us to marry, but I always knew you too well for that. You were always a brother to me, not a lover. But I will always love you. And I will never forget that you saved Eldarion. And Aragorn. Without them, I know I could not go on. Thank you, my brother.*  
  
They watched the smoke billow and drift across the city, across the land. The wind blew northwest, over Gondor, Rohan, towards Fangorn, Lorien and Eryn Lasgalen. In the end it would carry the smoke and ash over the Misty Mountains to Rivendell and Eriador. And when the flames died and the fire was cold, the ashes would be scattered on the Anduin to carry him to the sea he so loved and yearned for. He would indeed travel to the very ends of Middle Earth. And perhaps beyond.  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
So that's it - I'm afraid he really IS gone. (Ducks hurriedly) I'm sorry to all those reviewers who desperately wanted him NOT to be dead, (there were lots of you), but I couldn't think of a convincing way to do it. To be honest, I think this is more realistic - I didn't want to get into the area of resurrection and divine intervention. (And Ithilien, your idea for a sea burial was close, but not close enough).  
  
I can't believe how much I loved writing this, and what fun I had with some of the chapters, so when I typed those final, horrible little words 'the end', I felt a real sense of loss, and immediately started planning a new story. (Several, actually.)  
  
The first chapter is up now, so go along to 'Mission to Dol Guldur' where you-know-who is alive and well. (well, alive, anyway.) I won't go AU anymore, I'm just filling in some of those lovely gaps that Tolkien so kindly left us, and picking up on some of the events that were mentioned in passing in this story.  
  
Many, many thanks for your fantastic reviews and support, it means a tremendous amount to me. Keep reading!!  
  
Jay 


	10. Chapter 6a Revelations and Return

Author's Notes: I never intended to write this chapter, but the whole scene came to me one night when I couldn't get to sleep - I wrote it the next day. It might satisfy those of you who were so indignant at the previous ending! The first part of this chapter is the same as the original, but then the events vary.  
  
  
Alternative Chapter 6  
  
Revelations and Return  
  
  
  
Arwen hurried downstairs to where she had left Faramir the night before. He and Éowyn sat together by the window watching the dawn. It was obvious neither had slept all night.  
  
She wasted no time in soft words or greetings. "Éowyn, Faramir, I need you to come with me. We're making a terrible mistake, I must go to Aragorn at once."  
  
Hope flared in their faces. "You mean -." began Faramir.  
  
He face saddened. "No. Not that. I'm sorry, I should have thought. Come with me, I'll explain when we meet Aragorn and Gimli."  
  
She led them through the streets of Minas Tirith. They were followed at a discreet distance by two guards. It was very early and only a few people were about. They stared and hurriedly bowed as they watched their Queen pass by. Behind her, Faramir and Éowyn were exchanging mystified looks. Overhead the sky was a clear blue, and the day was already warm. It was a beautiful morning.  
  
The guards on duty saluted as they passed through the walls. At length they came again to Rath Dinen. At the end of the street was the House of the Kings. The door stood open. Arwen ascended the steps, then for the first time faltered. "Aragorn. Gimli." She spoke quietly, but they both turned at her voice.  
  
"What is it? Is anything wrong?"  
  
"Nothing else. But I've realised there's something I have to tell you, so you understand."  
  
Now all four looked mystified, but they followed Arwen back onto the steps where they sat down. Gimli cast a look over his shoulder at the still figure within. Aragorn could not suppress a sigh of relief after standing during the long night's vigil.  
  
Swiftly she told them of the incident deep under Lasgalen, so long ago. "I don't think he talked to anyone about it, ever. You all know how stubborn he can be - could be" she corrected herself.   
  
Aragorn picked at a loose thread on his tunic. "I see. It explains a lot. I knew he was uneasy when we travelled through Moria, but none of us was comfortable. Except Gimli. But he never said what was wrong."  
  
"He thought that his fear was a weakness. He would never admit to it." Beside her, Gimli had listened in silence. She could feel a barely suppressed anger in him, which suddenly erupted into words.  
  
"Why did he never say anything? All the way through Moria I tormented him about the mines. I teased him about cave-ins! And yesterday I laughed with you about our visit to Aglarond. Why did he never say anything? Blasted Elf!"   
  
As his anger and grief ran out the last two words caught up with him. He stopped, horror struck, and tried to take them back. "Arwen - Aragorn - I'm sorry. I didn't mean -."  
  
Arwen caught his hand. "It's all right. We know what you mean." From somewhere she found a small smile. "It's what you always called him when he won an argument or you were exasperated with him."   
  
Now she addressed herself to the other three as well. "I didn't say anything before, because it was not my secret, not my business to talk of his fears. But now - Aragorn, I know you mean to honour him. But the Tomb of the Kings is not the place for him. He - he would not want to be entombed in cold stone." She stopped, exhausted by the vehemence of her words. She saw Aragorn, Gimli, Faramir and Éowyn all nodding in agreement as they pondered what she said.  
  
"Yes. You are right, of course. I should have thought. But what do we do instead?"  
  
Arwen paused then, shooting an apologetic look at Faramir. As she continued, Aragorn understood her hesitance.  
  
"I think we should give him to the flames. Let the fire and smoke carry his spirit to the four winds. He was always a wanderer. Let him wander now." She finally ran out of words, and stopped.   
  
Faramir had tensed at this reminder of his father's death and his own near immolation, but as he considered what she said he found it made more and more sense. Aragorn and Gimli, too, initially reluctant - it was how they disposed of orc carrion - found themselves approving. It was fitting. There was no shame in it, and it was truly a better tribute for Legolas than a dark tomb, or even the cold earth.  
  
There was silence for a moment. All five were tired after the long sleepless night, and grief and strain were etched on their faces, even Éowyn, who perhaps knew him less well than the others. Then Faramir rose to his feet and pulled Éowyn to hers. "Aragorn, go home. Talk to your son. The guards can take the vigil, and I can do all that is necessary. I will see you later. Go."  
  
Gimli spoke his agreement. "Aragorn? He's right. There's nothing more we can do for now. And if the rites are to be officially observed, you need to be more formally dressed."  
  
Aragorn looked down at himself. His tunic was frayed at the edge, and his leggings had a muddy grass stain on one knee from when he had been playing with Ithilia the day before. He sighed. "You're right, Gimli. This has to be done properly. And I need to see Eldarion."  
  
When the other four departed for their various destinations, Gimli stood alone on the steps, feeling rather at a loss. There was no task for him to do, and he had nothing more formal to change into. Slowly, he turned, and went back up the steps into the House Of The Kings. He needed some time alone, and to make a final, silent, private farewell.  
  
The previous night he had been unable to bring himself to turn and look at Legolas, not wanting to put an end to his vain hopes, not wanting to face the truth. But now he was finally accepting reality - and he had an apology to make.  
  
Slowly, still reluctant, he crossed the chamber to the stone table bearing the bier. The tread of his boots echoed in the empty silence. At last he stood at the side of the catafalque, gazing down at his friend's still body. The golden hair, dry now, shone again like the sun. His face, always pale, was now like marble, and just as cold. His hands, the long slender fingers, were crossed on his chest. Gimli could see calluses on the tips of the fingers on one hand from the bowstring. For a long time, he simply stood, looking, while the image was engraved on his memory.  
  
"Goodbye, my friend. I'm going to miss you. Even your terrible jokes and tricks."  
  
His words, though softly spoken, seemed to ring in the echoing chamber. "Why are you so stubborn? You should have told me the truth when we went to Aglarond. I knew you didn't like the caves, but I thought that was just an elf thing. I never imagined the real reason. I'm sorry, you'll never know now how sorry I am, but I didn't know. Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you trust me?"  
  
He stopped abruptly, aware of footsteps behind him. He turned his head to see Faramir crossing the stone floor.   
  
"Gimli. Talking to yourself?"  
  
He gave a curt nod. "Just - saying goodbye. And apologizing."  
  
"About the caves?"  
  
Gimli nodded again. "Why didn't he trust us enough to say? Why didn't he ever tell us?"  
  
Faramir looked at him in sympathy. "I think, from what Arwen said, that it wasn't that he didn't trust you. It sounds like it was something he would never admit, even to himself. I got to know him well in Ithilien. He could be very stubborn, and would never show anything he felt was a weakness."  
  
"Aye, you're right." He looked back at Legolas. "Stubborn elf!"  
  
"Gimli, I'm going back now. Will you come with me?"  
  
"In a minute. I'll see you at Aragorn's house."  
  
Faramir left, and Gimli was left again in silence. He took one long, last look, and caught his breath in shock. Surely not.......? There was another long pause, so long he was convinced he had imagined it. But there it was again, a barely perceptible rise of the chest, so faint he would never have seen it if he had not been focused so intently. He turned his head and shouted for the guards. "Go after Faramir, bring him back now!" he ordered.  
  
Gimli had no authority over the guards, but something in his tone brooked no argument. With a startled nod, one turned and left swiftly.  
  
Still not believing what he had seen, he took one hand in his, fingers pressed to the inside of the wrist. Nothing. There was nothing. Noth - a flicker, the merest flutter, nearly imperceptible, but there. He knew now he was not imagining it, but did not know what to do.   
  
He fell to talking to his friend again. "Hold on, Legolas. I'm going to get Aragorn to come. He'll know what to do. Hold on." He repeated the words mindlessly, a lifeline for himself as much as Legolas. Once or twice he felt the tiny quiver against his fingers. Presently he heard a rush of feet and Faramir and Aragorn appeared at the door.  
  
"Gimli, what is it?" Aragorn demanded.  
  
"I felt a pulse. He's breathing. He's alive, Aragorn!"  
  
Dubious, Aragorn took the other wrist, feeling for the neck pulse at the same time. For a long time he was silent. Then he looked at Gimli sadly. "It's no good, my friend. There's nothing there. He's dead - " he broke off, eyes meeting Gimli's incredulously. "You're right! How could I have missed it? But it's weak, so weak - "  
  
He stopped then, moving his position. Still holding one wrist he placed his other hand over Legolas' heart. He closed his eyes, head bowed.  
  
"Aragorn - " Gimli started to say.  
  
Faramir shushed him. "Leave him. I've seen this before. Wait."  
  
Aragorn stood motionless, strain showing on his face. He said nothing. After a while he lifted his head and sighed.  
  
"He's a little stronger, I think. But it's not enough. I want to get him back so Arwen can help me. Let's get out of this mausoleum!"  
  
Faramir picked Legolas up gently, marvelling at how light and - frail - he felt. Swiftly they returned to Aragorn's house, Gimli trailing at the rear, feeling overwhelmed. The streets were still quiet, but the few people who were about looked at them in disbelief.  
  
As they entered, Aragorn called for a servant, bidding her to find Arwen. He went to the room Legolas used when he visited, followed by Faramir and Gimli. Arwen appeared seconds later.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Aragorn turned to her. "I don't know what's happened, or how I missed it, but he's alive. The life signs are very faint, though. I'm still not sure - Arwen, have you ever seen anything like this before?"  
  
She crossed to the bed, still disbelieving. Like Gimli and Aragorn she felt for a pulse, frowning. Suddenly she gave a gasp and looked up in surprise. "You're right! But I've never known it so slow in anyone."  
  
"I need you to help me. We've got to try to get him back."  
  
They took up identical positions on either side of the bed, one hand on Legolas' forehead, the other over his heart. Gimli watched in awe. Two healers, one elven, both now mortal, struggling against - something - for a life. The strain showed in them both. Aragorn, already weary, was grey with exhaustion. Arwen did not look much better.  
  
For a long, interminable time, nothing happened. For want of anything else to do, Gimli reached between them and again felt for a pulse. It was still so faint he could scarcely feel it. Sounds from the slowly waking city, bird song, cart wheels, voices, cries from street vendors, shouts and laughter, drifted in through the windows - open as always. Gimli suspected Legolas had never shut a window in his life. Apart from the sounds outside, the room was silent. It was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting.   
  
The change came very suddenly. Legolas took a deep breath, then another. The pulse under Gimli's anxious fingers returned suddenly, strong now. The cold pallor of his face flushed with life. Gimli heard a gasp behind him, and turned to see Éowyn. The two healers straightened. Arwen met Aragorn's gaze wearily, but her eyes were bright.  
  
Only seconds later, Legolas' eyes opened. He looked startled, to say the least, to see so many people in the room. He blinked in surprise, and levered himself into a sitting position. "What's the matter? Did I oversleep?"  
  
No one made any response. Legolas looked warily at the faces surrounding him. "What's wrong?" he asked uneasily. "Why is everyone staring at me?"  
  
Arwen shook her head and gave him a brilliant smile. "Nothing's wrong. It's just - " she stopped. "It's good to see you," she said simply. He stared at her, wondering if it was him that was mad, or everyone else. He felt at a distinct disadvantage on the bed while the others stood over him. He stood up, but it only added to his sense of confusion to realize he was fully clothed. He saw Gimli, wearing a broad grin, and looked at him suspiciously.   
  
"Gimli, if I find out you had anything to do with this ...." he let the threat hang.  
  
Aragorn swiftly raised his hand to forestall any further accusations. "It's not Gimli's fault. Legolas, what do you remember of last night?"  
  
Legolas sighed. He was right, it was everyone else who was mad. "There was a storm" he said patiently. "We went up on the roof to find Eldarion, he'd got stuck. He was soaked to the skin, poor child." A thought struck him, and he looked at Aragorn in alarm. "He is all right, isn't he? I thought he'd only got wet!"  
  
"He's fine" Aragorn reassured him. "Then what happened?"  
  
Legolas paused, and his expression went blank. "That's strange. I can't remember anything after we picked Eldarion up." He looked at Aragorn curiously. "What did happen?"  
  
Before Aragorn had the chance to explain, Eldarion burst in through the door and launched himself at Legolas from a dead run. He hugged him tightly, arms clamped around the elf's neck. He murmured "You're alive, you're alive!" over and over.  
  
Legolas staggered slightly under the impact, loosened the boy's stranglehold, and spoke reassuringly to him. "Well, of course I'm alive, why wouldn't I be?" He became aware of a change in the quality of the silence in the room. Looking up from Eldarion he saw no one would meet his gaze. Slowly he sat on the bed, moving Eldarion with him, and put one arm around the boy's shoulders. "I think someone had better tell me what did happen last night" he said quietly.  
  
The questions and explanations went on for most of the morning. The questions came from everyone, the explanations, what there were, came mostly from Gimli, Aragorn and Arwen. Aragorn tried to describe as best he could what he thought had happened. "When the lightning hit, the shock was immense. I think everything stopped, just shut down. Your heart rate and breathing were so slow and faint we couldn't detect it at all. Gods, Legolas, we all thought you were dead. It was a miracle that Gimli noticed anything. Arwen and I managed to bring it back to normal, but I'm still not entirely sure how we did it."  
  
Legolas was silent. He felt uncomfortable with the description of how close to death he had been, especially as he had no recollection of it whatsoever. It was - disorientating. At last he spoke. "It seems I caused you a great deal of grief and worry. I'm sorry. I don't remember anything, and can't tell you what happened, or answer your questions. I wish I could." He turned then to Aragorn and Arwen. He said softly, "For whatever you did, thank you."   
  
Faramir and Éowyn left then, but before they went, Faramir turned to him. "I've never been so glad in my life to have been wrong. Aragorn, you look exhausted. I can see to any business that needs to be dealt with today. Get some rest."  
  
Aragorn was about to argue, but his grief, the long night, the strain of the healing and his reaction to the morning's events were taking their toll. He nodded tiredly. "All right. But only for an hour or two."  
  
Eldarion was asleep, leaning against Legolas. The elf picked him up, and looked down at the boy, brushing the dark hair from his face before passing him to Aragorn. "When he wakes up, tell him we'll start those archery lessons this afternoon, if he wants to."  
  
Arwen smiled. "He'd love that."   
  
Eldarion awoke then, looking round sleepily and giving a smile when he saw Legolas. "Father, put me down! I don't need to be carried!" he demanded, with all the indignation of a twelve year old who fears he is being treated like a child.  
  
As father and son left, Arwen went to Legolas and hugged him tightly. He heard a muffled sob. "Don't cry," he chided her. He had never seen Arwen cry in all the long years they had known one another, not even when Elrond departed over the sea from the Grey Havens.  
  
"It's relief," she assured him. "It's good to have you back."  
  
"I might agree, if I felt I'd been away," he said lightly. She gave him a swift kiss and went out of the room. Before Gimli left too, he turned to Legolas.   
  
"You do realize that all the plans we made last night were a waste of time, don't you?"  
  
"Plans?"  
  
"Aye. What we were going to do, who should be told, that sort of thing."  
  
For the first time that day, Legolas laughed, but then he looked sharply at Gimli. " ' Who should be told' ? Have you already sent out messengers? My father - "   
  
"No, it's all right! I was going to go myself, after the - later today," he amended.  
  
Legolas gave a sigh of relief. "Thank the Valar. I don't think he could stand too many shocks like that," he added cryptically. "Anyway, it's a good thing you realized when you did. Thank you."  
  
Gimli merely grunted. He had had the same thoughts himself. If he had not returned to the House Of The Kings, if he had not seen the slight movement, then right now - he did not pursue that thought, but feared it would give him nightmares for weeks. He shook his head, then recalled Arwen's words that morning, words that had been driven from his mind by subsequent events.  
  
"Arwen told us an interesting story this morning. About the cave-in at Lasgalen, when you were children."  
  
"Arwen told you that?"  
  
"Yes, she did. Why did you never tell me yourself?" he demanded.  
  
Legolas shrugged. "I don't know. It's something I try not to think about. I don't think I've told anyone - the only reason Arwen knows is because she was there. But you're right, I should have said. But why did she tell you then?"  
  
"Aragorn had some idea about honouring a hero - 'a great hero of the city' were his words. You saved Eldarion's life, did you know that? You pushed him out of the way seconds before the lightning hit. Anyway, you were to be given a hero's burial, laid in the Tomb of the Kings. Arwen didn't think it was a good idea."  
  
"A tomb? She was right, it wasn't a good idea. It's just as well you did realize. I can't imagine anything worse!" He glanced out of the window at the sun, now high in the sky. "Come, it's time I went to the armoury. I promised Eldarion some archery lessons this afternoon."  
  
"I should think he'd be better off learning from Aragorn's guards. He'll need to learn a lot more quickly than you did, he won't be able to spend the next thousand years practising his skills!"  
  
"Really? Well, I'm not surprised Aragorn turned down your offer to teach Eldarion axe fighting. Under your influence he would probably have ended up cutting off his own foot! But I suppose it's a useful skill if he ever runs out of firewood," he added charitably.  
  
Gimli spluttered. "Firewood?! May I remind you that the art of axe fighting has been practised by the Dwarves for many thousands of years!"  
  
"Practised, yes. Are they any good at it yet?"  
  
Still arguing, they headed down the stairs and into the courtyard. As they passed, the household servants who heard them smiled. Things were back to normal.  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Well, everything's all right again! I decided to do it this way as I have read several stories recently where Legolas is lost in some sort of Limbo, struggling to return, (or not wanting to return for some reason). I'm not knocking them, they are brilliant stories - but I didn't want to write another like that. Having him wake up, wondering what all the fuss is about seemed a different way to approach the problem. And yes, I do know that Legolas and Arwen weren't there at the Grey Havens when Frodo, Bilbo, Gandalf, Elrond and Galadriel left. But they should have been.  
  
I must admit that the original ending is my favourite, it seems more satisfying, but I did feel very guilty at killing him, and just a little heartbroken! Please review, and let me know which version you prefer!!  
  
Jay 


End file.
